


Melt Into You

by icantloseyoutoo



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Bellarke Bingo, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Cuddling & Snuggling, Doctor Clarke Griffin, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Protective Bellamy Blake, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 14:23:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19929523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantloseyoutoo/pseuds/icantloseyoutoo
Summary: Clarke might have underestimated the blizzard. What was supposed to be a late finish at the clinic to catch up on paperwork turns into a storm-stayed night with the last person she would have expected, but as she's about to find out, a lot can happen in one night.





	Melt Into You

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic for Bellarke Bingo! I'm really excited about this one, but it was a challenge - it all flows together smoothly with no transitions/breaks as the scene changes, to show that it takes place over one night. Let me know what you think, and don't forget to give some love to our lovely hosts!
> 
> I’ve tagged potentially triggering content, stay safe and happy x

If Clarke hadn’t been wearing headphones, she could have avoided the whole damn thing. It was a habit born from being raised by Abby Griffin, who insisted it was impolite to play music out loud, and enforced her moral policy so strictly that it carried through to adult life, even when no one else was around. Clarke hadn’t lived with her mother for years, and still she found herself almost comforted by the feeling of the buds in her ears as music played.

Of course Clarke was aware of the weather warning, or at least some deep, primitive part of her brain had absorbed the information from some radio announcement on her drive to work, and filed it away under “Worry About Later”, but the sounds of The Strokes filling her head muffled the update Harper announced over the clinic’s speaker system at noon.

The clinic was closed now, and all the other staff had gone home for the weekend. But, like most days, she stayed in late to catch up on paperwork. On Fridays, Clarke usually only saw patients in the morning and spent the rest of the day holed up in her office doing admin. It was still early days for Clarke’s venture, but running the newest clinic in one of the poorer areas of the city gathered a fair bit of interest, which meant that even just over a month in, she was swamped with work. Clarke always considered work to be like a liquid: it takes up whatever amount of space you give it. A year ago Clarke would have been stricter with giving herself time off to reset and decompress, but she was standing on her own two feet now, and if she didn’t dedicate every spare moment to the clinic, she wouldn’t stay afloat.

She was used to being the last person to leave, so it didn’t panic her when the lights went out. Jasper, ever the eco-warrior, often set them on a timer, forgetting Clarke was probably still inside at whatever hour he picked. With a roll of her eyes, she pulled out her headphones and flicked on the torch on her phone, heading towards the mains.

The layout of the clinic was familiar to her now: just one floor, with a waiting area inside the front entrance, four treatment rooms lining the main corridor, the staff room towards the back, and opposite that, Clarke’s office. You’d miss the janitor’s closet if you didn’t know where to look: an unmarked door built into the wall of the corridor, with just a keyhole and the hinges visible on the outside. The mains were in here somewhere… _god_ , Jasper was messy for someone who gets paid to keep things clean. It was a good thing Clarke’s store cupboards were neater than this, or else she’d never be able to keep track of the medication and supplies she needed to keep this place functioning. 

Finding the switch she needed, she flipped it with a triumphant smile. Nothing happened. Furrowing her brow, she flipped it again. And again. And one more time, before frowning in confusion. Maybe it wasn’t Jasper, maybe there was a problem with the power supply. A tense few seconds passed before the backup generator kicked in, lights flickering initially but all electronics hummed back to life in good time. Clarke thanked god she had the foresight to set up shop in a place with a backup power supply and walked back to her office, gathering her things. Maybe the blackout was a sign to call it a night.

Clarke shrugged a strap of her delicate backpack over her knee-length pea coat and padded towards the main entrance. As she approached the double doors, she gasped as she saw what was pressing up against the glass panels in the door. Snow – at least waist high – pressing firmly against her only way out. It had been snowing fairly heavily for the past few days, but Clarke had never seen anything like what was falling down now. These were no delicate snowflakes, these were violent projectiles being thrown from the sky by an angry god. It was then that the primitive part of her brain awoke, reminding her of the weather warning: strong chance of a heavy blizzard, due to rage on for hours if not days.

Determined not to let this get between her and the steak dinner she had planned for tonight, she pushed against the door with all her might. It didn’t budge. Taking a few steps back, she took a running start before slamming her side into the door, leaning in to give as much momentum as possible to the push. Still nothing. She tried for five minutes to get the door to open even the smallest bit, but there was no way she was getting through.

Staring desolately outside at a white world she couldn’t enter, she was at a loss. The clinic was closed on the weekend, there was no one waiting at home for Clarke to worry if she didn’t show up, and she couldn’t ask anyone to travel in such dangerous weather to come and rescue her. What was she supposed to do now?

_You could call her._

She shook the thought out of her head. No. Slowly dying in a snowy tomb suddenly didn’t seem like the worst option any more. Although, it did give her an idea.

Reaching for her phone, she dialled a number she hadn’t called in too long for her liking. It rang just three times before he answered.

“Clarke Griffin? Here I was thinking you’d forgotten all about me.”

“ _Wells!_ Oh god, I’m so glad to hear your voice.” The relief was obvious in her tone. “I hate to call you like this, but I need a favour. And I _promise_ to make it up to you at the weekend if you’re free – lunch on me. It’s been way too long.”

“Whoa, what’s going on? I don’t think you’ve asked me for a favour since-”

“I know.” It came out harsher than intended, and Clarke flinched a little before softening. “I know, I’m sorry. Look, I’m snowed in at the clinic, there’s no way I can get the door open. Do you think you could swing something to help me out?” Clarke crossed her fingers as she waited for his reply.

“You had me at ‘lunch on me’, Clarke. Being the mayor’s son has its privileges, but as you well know, an allowance has never been one of them.” Wells wasn’t wrong. Growing up, the two had been best of friends. Though they had both come from wealth, Clarke came to realise that Jaha was a frugal man, and wanted Wells to learn about financial responsibility by getting his own job instead of being given pocket money. She supposed it stuck; Wells never said no to anything free, even if he didn’t necessarily need it. “Consider it done, I’ll get him on the case.”

Clarke let out a sigh of relief, knees almost giving way. “Thank you _so much_ Wells, you’re a lifesaver.”

“No worries. Settle in, I’ll keep you updated.” 

Without a goodbye, he hung up to make some calls. Clarke pocketed her phone as she made her way to the staff room, ready to relax until Wells called back. She dumped her bag and coat on the long, L-shaped couch before she shivered a little, feeling the cold seeping through the gaps in her ripped skinny jeans. She rubbed the arms of her thick white sweater, thankful for the polo neck at least providing a little extra warmth. She hovered her hands over the radiator, noting it was colder than usual. Turning the dial up, she made a face. The backup generator obviously wasn’t as strong as the mains.

It was moments like these Clarke wished she liked caffeine; a hot drink would do her good. The staff room was filled with coffee machines and tea bags, but even the thought of coffee made her gag. It had been a staple of many of her colleagues’… _diets?_ (Clarke wasn’t sure it qualified as a meal) during her time on her ED rotation, and she had a hard time separating the smell of the stuff from the horror she’d seen behind those doors. A clinic was much more her speed.

A stroke of luck searching through the drawers – instant hot chocolate! Clarke must have stashed a few sachets away for herself when she was stocking the place in the first week. Completing the drink with an ungodly amount of whipped cream, she settled in to the couch, being careful not to spill a drop onto her sweater.

No sooner had the sweet liquid touched her lips than the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Clarke froze solid. Wells hadn’t called, there was no way help had come so quickly, and Clarke was the last one here… or so she thought. The footsteps got closer to the staff room, and she saw the shadows of two shoes cross the thin strip of light underneath the staff room door. As quietly as she could, drink still in hand, she tiptoed quickly to stand behind the door. There was nothing here she could use as a weapon, but hey, if she had a hot liquid maybe she could throw it in the intruder’s face as a distraction before bolting to her office, which at least could be locked from the inside. 

She held her breath as the doorknob twisted, and the intruder slowly pushed open the door to the staff room. As the figure paced inside, she began to make out the outline of a man. She studied him from the back, taking in as many details as she could so as to help the police later. He was maybe half a foot taller than Clarke, wearing all black. He was lean but muscular if the way his sweater clung to his arms was any indication, with a mess of thick, black curls on his head. That would have to do, Clarke couldn’t take the panic any longer.

Preparing to strike, she shouted. “Hey!” The man jumped, whipping around to face her. As their eyes met, they both leaped back in surprise. There was no forgetting that face. “Jesus Christ, Bellamy, I almost threw this in your face! What the fuck are you doing here?”

“What am _I_ doing here? What the fuck are _you_ doing here?” His posture relaxed a little, but he remained clearly on edge.

“I _work_ here! What the hell are you doing?” The cheek of this boy, honestly!

He dodged the question. “You were going to use hot chocolate as a weapon? The only people you’re scaring away with that monstrosity are diabetics, Princess.”

She put the drink down on the counter next to her, and rushed towards him. “I. Said. What. The fuck. Are you. Doing. Here?” She punctuated each break in her speech with a shove to his chest. 

“Hey, hey, easy, Princess, easy! It’s not what it looks like.” He struggled to control her hands, either not noticing or not caring that the use of her old nickname was only angering her more.

Once he stilled her wrists, she huffed, knowing he had a physical advantage. That didn’t mean she couldn’t be snarky as hell, though. “Well it _looks_ like you just took advantage of a blizzard to break in to my clinic.” She seethed through gritted teeth. 

His mouth formed a small ‘o’ before snapping shut. “Okay, maybe it is a little what it looks like. But I swear to god I didn’t know you worked here, if I did I would never…” He trailed off as her expression changed from anger to excitement. “Clarke?”

“How did you get in? Can you show me?” If Bellamy found his way in, they could both find their way out.

He shot her a quizzical look. “Same way as you, the front door.”

She matched his expression. “How did you get it open? We’re snowed in!” 

The colour drained from his face. “What?”

Clarke explained what she had come across at the front door, and Bellamy swore under his breath.

“I got here a few hours ago, I’ve been hiding in one of the toilet cubicles until I thought everyone was gone. Apparently I thought wrong.” He gestured to her.

“Shit.” Clarke exhaled, collapsing on to the couch again. Now that she’d exhausted that line of questioning, her initial anger resurfaced. “That brings me back to my original question. What are you doing here?”

Realistically Clarke knows the answer. There’s only one reason people break into clinics, and it starts with ‘d’ and ends with ‘rugs’. Bellamy Blake was a few years ahead of her in high school; the brother of her best friend, Octavia. After their mom died, Bellamy started hanging around with a bad crowd, and the rumour was he was involved with some low-level drug dealing to help make ends meet. She lost touch with the Blakes when she left for med school, and the last she heard, Bellamy had been arrested on a misdemeanour drug charge. While she felt a level of familiarity with him, she was still on guard.

His face gave her nothing, but his voice betrayed some bitterness. “Doesn’t matter now, does it?”

She sighed. “You’re here for drugs, aren’t you? Bellamy, I was hoping you turned your life around. For Octavia.” Might as well get straight to the point. “You’re all she has.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me, Princess.” He snapped, the dig at his past obviously bothering him.

“But you’re not denying it.” Clarke was surprised to hear sadness in her voice.

Bellamy said nothing, hanging his head low for a second before shaking it off and sitting next to her. “Look, we’re gonna be stuck here a while and I’d rather we didn’t hate each other the whole time. I’m not gonna take anything, okay? I just want to get back to Octavia as soon as I can.”

The worry in his eyes was unmistakable, setting off alarm bells in Clarke’s head. “Is she okay?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, she’s not well. Fucking insurance company is screwing us over; we can’t afford the copay for her insulin. They jacked up the price, she’s been rationing it. I keep telling her not to, and just to let me worry about the bills, but she’s too stubborn. I’m doing everything I can – I’m working two jobs, going to community college, but… whatever, you don’t wanna hear a sob story. Yeah, I was here for drugs, but not for the reason you think.”

“You were going to take insulin for Octavia.” She said in understanding. It’s a death sentence for a Type 1 diabetic like her to go without insulin. She must be feeling the effects already, but knowing Octavia, she wouldn’t let Bellamy take her to hospital unless she was in diabetic ketoacidosis, and by then it could be life or death. Bellamy’s nod and guilty look was all the answer she needed. “Shit. Bellamy, I’m so sorry. Listen, I own the clinic, okay? When we get out of here, just take as much as you need, I’ll figure it out.” She could take the financial hit. He couldn’t. The Blake siblings were never ones to take charity, but Bellamy’s grateful look proved to Clarke he was desperate. Before he could say anything, Clarke’s phone rang.

“Wells? What have you got for me?”

“Are you watching the news?”

“Uhh, no but I can be. Give me a sec.” She motioned for Bellamy to pass her the remote for the TV, and she switched it on to the first news channel she could find. “ _Shit.”_ Exterior shots of the city’s landmarks were being shown, covered in feet of thick, white snow. Streets were empty, parked cars were almost buried, and the reporter was repeating a message from Mayor Jaha’s office to stay inside until city officials could clear the roads.

“Yeah, it’s worse than we expected. I talked to dad, and Chief Kane, but they’re not budging on prioritising the District General to be cleared first. I’ve put you as high up on the list as I can, but hang in there – I don’t think you’ll be rescued for a while.” He explained. Not just the mayor’s son, Wells was a well-respected lawyer in his own right. He had some pull with Marcus Kane, the most senior police officer in the city, and Clarke was never more thankful for the connection.

“No, that makes sense,” she said, but sounded dejected. “They need to clear the route to the hospital first, people will be sick, or get injured. Thanks Wells, keep me in the loop, okay? And stay safe.”

“You too, Clarke. And don’t thank me yet, thank me when we’re eating caviar this weekend.”

Clarke barked out a laugh. “Caviar? I’m not made of money; I’ll buy you sushi if you’re lucky. See you then.”

Bellamy studied her as she hung up. “That your boyfriend?” 

“Wells? No, not at all, he’s like my brother. He’s Mayor Jaha’s son, he’s trying to get me out of here.” She explained, then added, “Get _us_ out of here, I guess.”

“Does he know you’re stuck in here with a handsome, dangerous, hardened criminal?” He joked.

“Hmm, I don’t think I know any of those,” she joked back. “You might wanna get comfy, it’s going to be a long night.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, propping his feet up on the coffee table. Clarke bit back the urge to tell him off – something her mother would have said to her as a child. The light hum of the news channel filled the silence between them for a while, until Bellamy spoke. “I meant what I said earlier, by the way. If I knew this was your place, I never would have broken in.” Clarke’s furrowed brows prompted him to continue. “I know we never exactly saw eye to eye, but… if we ever agreed on anything, it was about Octavia. You meant a lot to each other; you were good for her. I never forgot that.”

Clarke took that in. “I shouldn’t have assumed what you were here for. I should’ve known – every stupid thing you did, you did for her. She didn’t always see that, but I did.”

He shook his head. “I would’ve thought the same thing if I were you. You were always this _‘good girl’_ , and I was…”

“What, a _bad boy?”_ she teased, and a smile crossed his face. “You’re a good guy, Bellamy. Always have been. A little rough around the edges maybe, but you’ve got a big heart.”

His expression faltered, his face hardening. “Good guys don’t get arrested for possession. And you’re too trusting, you know that? 20 minutes after I break in to your clinic and we’re – what, we’re kicking back on the couch like old friends?” He stood and paced. “I could’ve been dangerous; I could’ve hurt you!”

She was thrown by his sharp change of tone. “But you’re not. You _didn’t._ ”

“I could have been anyone, Clarke. Not everyone in this city is a nice person.” 

“You think all my patients are sunshine and rainbows? _You_ try working nights in the emergency room for six months and tell me what you think about people then!” She was on the defensive now. If there was one thing Clarke hated, it was being spoken to like she was a child. “ _God_ , you’re so condescending. I can’t believe I ever had a crush on you.”

The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them. They hung thick in the silence that followed, neither of them daring to make eye contact. _Shit. What was she thinking? Change the subject, fast._ “I’m starving, I’m gonna see if there’s any food left around here.” She rose from the couch, avoiding his gaze, and crouched by the mini-fridge under the cabinets in the corner of the room. Staring into the nearly empty fridge, she heard the door swing open and shut as Bellamy left the room.

Letting out a breath, she scanned the contents of the shelves in front of her. Monty, the pharmacist, had worked through lunch, leaving his veggie wrap behind in the fridge. The last few of Harper’s cupcakes remained in a Tupperware box, and Clarke fondly remembered the candles still left in one of the drawers. She had brought them in to celebrate the clinic’s one-month birthday, and they’d been a huge hit with the staff. Mostly everything else left was fairly useless – some milk, yoghurt, and something in a sandwich bag that looked expired. With a sigh, she took out Monty’s wrap and cut it in half, saving the other bit for Bellamy. She felt guilty taking Monty’s food, but it would only go bad over the weekend, and she made a mental note to pay him back for it. Just as she was about to pick up her half of the wrap, Bellamy walked through the door and threw a small packet at her. She barely caught it in time, and was surprised when she examined it. “Peanut Butter Cups?” Her favourite candy as a teenager. 

“Octavia always bought some when she knew you were coming over, I kinda got hooked on them after that. Brought them with me today – didn’t know how long I’d need to stay hidden, so I took a snack.” He seemed almost sheepish.

“Thanks.” She smiled warmly, putting the packet down. “I found us a veggie wrap. It’s not much of a meal, but… it’s something. Let’s save these for dessert.” Bellamy nodded, and they brought their wraps and the Peanut Butter Cups to the couch. “You, um, you said you were in community college now?”

He muffled an affirmative, mouth full of food.

“What do you study?”

A smirk crept up his face. “Criminology.” They both broke into smiles, and Bellamy let out a quiet snort. “Figured I had a head start on that.” Clarke laughed softly, and they settled into a comfortable silence. “Last I heard you were working in the District General with your mom. What happened? Not your scene?”

Clarke coughed, choking on her food. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Something like that. So you really turned your life around, huh?”

He sighed. “Believe it or not, drug dealing was never part of my life plan. But after mom died I had to look after Octavia, and that was the fastest way for me to make money. Do you know how expensive a funeral is?” It must have shown on Clarke’s face that she was thinking about her father. “Shit. Of course you do, I’m sorry. What I’m trying to say is that I was desperate. I kept telling myself that who we are and who we need to be to survive are two very different things. Getting arrested was a wake-up call; I was lucky they didn’t make an example of me.”

Clarke nodded in understanding, pursing her lips as she digested everything he said. “Well I’m glad they didn’t. It would’ve sucked to be here alone, even if it means I’m stuck with a handsome criminal.” 

Bellamy smirked with a glint in his eye. “Thought you said you didn’t know any of those?”

“I just meant you’re not dangerous. The rest of it… well, I can’t argue with facts.” She matched his expression, surprised by herself. She was never normally this playful with flirting, but she supposed Bellamy was used to it after all those years of casual encounters, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like the words came to her naturally. A pause in conversation followed, making her question whether it was a bad idea to flirt with the only person she was snowed in with, and she felt relief wash over her when Wells called again. “What’s up?”

“Don’t hate me.”

Clarke sat bolt upright. “What is it?”

Wells sighed through the phone. “My dad told your mom about your… situation.”

“Oh, god.” Clarke groaned, falling back into the couch. “I’m not talking to her. And please tell her not to come here, I don’t want to see her.”

“I know, I know you don’t. But is it true you haven’t spoken to her since-” 

“ _Wells,_ ” she warned, and he stopped mid-sentence. “You know why that is.” 

“Yeah, I do. I just wanted to give you a heads up, in case she called you, and you… changed your mind.”

“Not likely.” Clarke sighed. “Thanks anyway.”

Hanging up, she ran her hands through her hair under Bellamy’s watchful gaze. “That didn’t sound good.” He bit into his Peanut Butter Cup as he waited for her to answer.

She scoffed. “My mom, causing trouble.”

“Ah, Abby. She never liked me.” He grinned, almost proud of himself. “Imagine her face if she knew I was in here with you.” Clarke didn’t join in his laughter, and he cut himself off abruptly. She sniffed hastily, wiping her face quickly with her sleeve. All signs of jest left his voice. “Clarke? Are you okay?” 

She cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine, it’s just… cold in here.” She put some distance between them and walked to the radiator, rubbing her arms.

“You can talk to me if you want.” His voice softened, and he gestured to their surroundings. “I’m not going anywhere. All we’ve got is time.”

Clarke took a shaky breath and considered his offer. He had been so open with her already, and she supposed it would do her good to talk to someone other than Wells about it. Steadying herself, she gathered her thoughts. “A little under a year ago, I was working in the District General with my mom. I had to run into the supply closet to grab some cannulas, and while I was in there, I saw her-” her breath caught in her throat, the words struggling to come out. Bellamy leaned forward, nodding for her to continue. “I saw her stealing the hospital’s morphine, about to shoot it right there in the closet. I was so shocked, I didn’t want to believe it, but it was happening. And I couldn’t let her practice medicine like that; she could have killed someone. So I came out from where I was hiding, and I grabbed it from her, confronting her about it.” Bellamy closed his eyes, nostrils flaring. He knew where this was going. “Turns out getting between an addict and her next fix is like getting between a mama bear and her cub. The need for the high must have been more powerful than her maternal instincts, because she, uh…” Clarke stroked her neck lightly; it was as if her throat was closing up, refusing to let the words tumble out from her mouth. “I needed stitches. Broken glass, injuries from needles, things like that. Turns out a medical supply closet isn’t the best place to get into a fight.” She shook her head with a humourless chuckle, then settled back in to sadness. Risking a glimpse at Bellamy, she saw him shaking his head, wringing his hands. A quick glance away and she continued. “She cried a lot. Apologised. Promised she’d stop using, but she didn’t. It got so bad that one night I locked her in the bathroom while she pounded on the door, and I just called Wells crying. Like, ugly crying. Blotchy face, snot running down my nose, and he helped me get her quietly into rehab. She’s been out for a while now, and she’s been trying to reach out. But every time I think about her…”

“You think of what she did to you.” Bellamy finished her thought for her. He patted the couch next to him, inviting her to sit. As she walked over, he continued, pain burning through his voice. “Clarke, I had no idea. I’m so sorry. What you went through was horrific, there’s no doubt about that. And you don’t have to see her if you don’t want to.” He sighed, taking a moment to collect himself. “But to me it sounds like she’s trying to make amends.” Clarke opened her mouth to say something, but Bellamy held up a finger. “I know that’s not what you want to hear. But you’re a doctor, and I was a dealer. We’ve both seen more than our fair share of addiction, we know what it does to best of people, and we know how hard it is to make a recovery. She needs you now more than ever. And even though right now you’re pretending you don’t, you still have a mom. You can still make new memories with her. Don’t let that be your last one.”

Despite Clarke’s struggle to hold it together, she could feel the emotion spilling over her, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. Bellamy didn’t say anything, but she felt his warm hand take hers, giving it a squeeze, and just holding her. Letting her know he was there. Objectively she knew he had a point. Addiction is a mental illness, and like most illnesses it can be treated. It wasn’t Abby’s fault, and Clarke knew that. She knew her mother hadn’t just gotten bored one day and decided to risk her life over a high; it had been a slow progression from the car accident that had killed her father and injured her mother. Looking back, she kicked herself for not seeing the signs. Whether it was the emotional pain that made her keep using, or if the painkillers they gave her at the hospital triggered a dependency, Clarke wasn’t sure. And as much as she hated what Abby did to her, and what she did to herself, Clarke didn’t hate _her_. Abby was her _mother_ , and she always would be. She wasn’t by any means ready to forgive her, but this was the first time she felt like she had taken a step closer to it. And it felt good. Anger is heavy, it hurts to carry it around for a long time, and it felt as if Bellamy had taken some of the load for her. The sadness was exhausting, and she didn’t have the energy to form words. Instead, she rested her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes. His arm wrapped around her, cradling her. It felt good to be in his arms, and if it wasn’t so cold, Clarke could have fallen asleep.

Sitting upright, she cleared her throat and wiped her eyes, forcing a smile on her face. “I think we need some blankets.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, his voice still gentle. “Where would they be?”

Clarke gestured for him to follow her as she left the staff room. “We keep supplies of them in the treatment rooms.” She explained, as she showed him to the nearest one. Crisp, clean, and minimalist, it was what you would expect for a clinic. The computer on the desk was so old Clarke was surprised it still worked, and the wooden desk was bolted to the floor. A privacy screen rested around the reclining bed, though ‘bed’ was a generous word for the steel-framed slabs of sponge. Clarke made a beeline for the cupboards lining the wall on the far end of the room, kneeling down to pull out two blankets fresh in their plastic packaging. “We get NFAs coming through sometimes, the blankets help them last the winter.”

“NFAs?” 

“No fixed abode. Mostly homeless people, but some work on ships, or just couch-surf to stay off the streets.” She handed him one of the blankets.

Bellamy took in the room. “You have beds here? At least we’ve got somewhere to sleep tonight.” 

Clarke cackled. “If you want to sleep there, you are _welcome_ to try it. But those things hurt like hell if you’re on there for more than a couple minutes, and when you fall off – _when_ , not if – you’re gonna hit your head on metal on your way down. Trust me, we’re better off on the couch.”

Bellamy’s bottom lip jutted out as he took in what she said, and Clarke brushed past him on her way out. With a final scan of the treatment room, he supposed she was right. The beds reminded him a little of what you might see in an admittedly fairly nice prison, but a prison nonetheless. That was a place he didn’t want to think about. He had never served a prison sentence, but when he was arrested, he had to spend a few nights in the cells in the local police station before Octavia bailed him out as they waited for his trial. His punishment was light considering the charges; he had enough on him for it to be considered possession with intent to supply, but he had cooperated with police and the charge got knocked down to a misdemeanour. Community service hadn’t been fun by any means, but it was a whole lot better than the alternative.

“Is it me or is it colder in here?” Clarke asked when he followed her back to the staff room. Her breath was forming tendrils in the air, as if the words were tangible, flowing towards Bellamy’s ears.

“Maybe. The news said the blizzard was affecting power lines in some parts of the city, is that happening here?”

Clarke pursed her lips. “The power went out just before you came out of your hiding spot; we’ve been running on the backup generator since then. I think it’s solar powered, but,” she gestured to the window behind her, the night so dark they might as well have been staring into a black hole, except for a couple of inches of snow collecting on the windowsill. “as you can see, we’re a little low on that.”

“Okay,” Bellamy’s eyes darted around the room as he thought. “we don’t want to use up all the juice, so let’s turn off lights when we can, and maybe turn the radiators down too. We’ve got blankets, so hopefully we’ll be fine.”

She nodded in response, and as he lowered the settings on the radiator, she let out a yawn. The day’s work had been draining, and the cold seeping into her bones made her want to curl up into a ball and sleep. A text from Wells made her phone buzz, and she read it out loud to Bellamy. “Wells says they’ve started clearing major roads to the high priority buildings – the hospital, emergency service headquarters, and the mayor’s office. He thinks they’ll be done in a few hours, then we’re next.”

“We should probably get some sleep then.” Almost as an afterthought, he asked, “What time is it?” 

Eyes flitting down to the phone screen, she answered. “A few minutes after midnight.” When he let out a dry chuckle, she continued. “Why?”

“It’s my birthday. Funny way to spend it – trapped in a clinic I was about to steal from with the girl I had a thing for in high school.” 

He said it so casually Clarke almost missed it. Heat rushed up to her cheeks, and she ducked her face to hide her blush. It surprised her; he’d always been a bit of a player, never with the same girl for more than a month, and never with any indication he wanted to settle down with one person. She had thought her crush on him was ancient history, but the butterflies in her stomach begged to differ. The few years she’d been gone had been kind to him; his freckles hadn’t faded despite the lack of sun, and his usual clean-shaven look had been traded in for a bit of stubble. It looked good on him. Instead of focusing on how his admission affected her, she latched on to the other part of his statement with a grin. “Hold that thought, I’ve got just the thing.” Rummaging through the drawers and pulling out Harper’s Tupperware box, she planted candles into two cupcakes and lit them, presenting one to him. “Happy birthday, Bellamy.”

He let out a laugh, breathy and carefree. “That’s brilliant. You had those just lying around?” He shook his head with a grin. “Thanks, Princess.”

“Make a wish.” Clarke blew out the candle on her cupcake before looking at him expectantly.

He paused. “I think I know what to wish for,” he locked eyes with her, holding her gaze with such careful intensity that it sent Clarke’s heart racing.

“Well don’t say it, or else it won’t come true.” She hoped her voice sounded even, but a barely noticeable hitch in her breath escaped nonetheless.

He put his cake down, candle still burning. “You’re right. Besides, I’ve always thought actions speak louder than words.”

Clarke couldn’t tell who moved first, but in an instant Bellamy’s face was so close to hers she could have counted every freckle. Her hands trailed delicately from his neck up through his curls, as his own explored her waist and hips, pulling each other closer. She felt a warm, hesitant breath play on her lips, before he took her in, his tongue sending sensations coursing through her body she didn’t know she was capable of feeling. For a blissful moment, everything else melted away as she breathed him in, his hands leaving trails of fire where they touched her skin, his taste mingling with hers until they were one and the same. Neither seemed to care for oxygen; they kissed as if their life force arose from the other. Eventually, sweetly, naturally, Clarke came down from her tiptoes and they came apart, their fingertips the last to leave the other’s body, keeping the connection for as long as they could. Catching her breath, she whispered, “Why didn’t we do that years ago?” 

“I’m glad we didn’t,” he replied. She looked up at him, hurt flashing across her features before he continued, “because then we wouldn’t have had this moment. Every choice we’ve made in the last few years has led us right here, and honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Smiling, she pulled him into a hug, burying her face between his shoulder and his neck. The smell of his cologne filled her nose, spicy, woody, and warm. She stifled a yawn as she closed her eyes, content in his arms, before he gently stepped back with a chuckle. “Okay, Princess, let’s get you to bed.” 

The cupcakes long forgotten, Bellamy guided Clarke to the couch. Settling down on the short arm of the L-shaped couch, she covered herself with a blanket and used one of the cushions as a pillow. Bellamy stayed up a while longer, making the rounds of the clinic to switch off all the lights, saving whatever juice was left in the dwindling backup supply. When he was satisfied, he tiptoed carefully back to the staff room and turned off the main lights. Letting himself adjust to the darkness for a moment, once he could see the vague outlines of furniture in the room, he quietly made his way to the long arm of the couch, were he had left his own blanket, and climbed into his makeshift bed. The silence was deafening, making him attuned to the slightest noise coming from the building. The wind still whistled outside, and he absently wondered if he was just imagining the cold draft of air on his face or if there really was a gap in the window somewhere. The noise that bothered him most, though, was the sound of Clarke’s shivering breaths. Concern rather than annoyance drove him to gently shake her shoulder. “Clarke? You’re freezing. Come here.”

With less resistance than he anticipated, she rose and joined him where he had been resting moments ago. He lay flat on his back, while she crawled to lie almost on top of him, their legs intertwined. As he placed both blankets on top of them, she nestled her face into his chest, one of her arms draped over his body. They fit together with ease, as if the crook of his arm was made with her in mind. He planted a kiss on the top of her head as a wordless goodnight, and they drifted off together towards a peaceful night’s sleep. 

Clarke had always been a light sleeper. She had hated it during her night shifts at the hospital, when resting in the on-call room had become impossible thanks to the near-constant revolving door of staff filtering through, waking each other up for emergencies. It had always been funny to her the reputation given to the on-call room in TV shows – no one in their right mind would hook up there, not least because the doors don’t lock, but because they were rarely empty enough for anyone to get any action. Would-be lovers would be pelted with hospital-issue pillows and shouts to get out before they’d even begun, and one thing Clarke had learned was not to get in between a colleague and a good night’s sleep. While it had been a burden a year ago, she was thankful for it now. Hours after the pair drifted off, the distant smash of a window jolted her out of her dream, the adrenaline making her instantly alert. 

Her first thought was that it must be Wells. Reaching for her phone, she flinched at the brightness of the screen before adjusting, reading the time – 04:16 – and a text from Wells on the lock screen, timestamped 12 minutes ago. 

_Wells: finishing up here. hang in there, sending someone soon._

She furrowed her brows. There was no way he could have sent someone here that fast, and surely they would have announced themselves by now if it was the local police. She quickly tapped a reply.

_Clarke: just heard a window break. that you?_

The sound of footsteps and hushed voices made her gasp, and she shook Bellamy awake. He began to grumble, and she shushed him urgently. “There’s someone here,” she whispered, and his eyes snapped open. “I heard glass shattering, and footsteps.”

Groggy, he began to sit up carefully, and Clarke moved to give him room. His head turned to the door, and they watched as a beam of light filled the gap at the bottom of the door, footsteps getting ever closer, and voices becoming louder, more distinct. 

_“Will you get that torch out of my face?”_ One asked, in a whisper-shout. 

“Relax, cupcake, just shut up and keep looking.” Another, deeper voice replied, dripping with sarcasm.

A scoff. “Asshole.” The first man replied.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I hurt your feelings? Get it together, Dax. Come on, let’s check this room first.” Their voices quieted as they entered one of the other rooms.

At the mention of the name, Bellamy sucked in a breath and turned back to Clarke, panicked. “Is there somewhere safe here to hide? Clarke, these are not good men.”

Before today, she had only ever known Bellamy to be cocky, overconfident, and overprotective. She had certainly never seen him scared – until now. “Uh… my office – it locks from the inside. But it’s across the hall, we’d be seen!” 

“Okay, okay, let me think.” He ran a hand through his curls, eyes darting around the room. “We wait until they’re searching a room, then we make a run for your office. We take your phone, call the police, and wait for them to come get us. Sound good?”

Clarke nodded hastily, not wanting to risk speaking for fear of being overheard. A single nod from Bellamy signalled her to grab her phone and get ready to creep to the door. Bellamy motioned for her to stay behind him, and he carefully turned the handle, bracing himself as he delicately pulled the door back a few centimetres to peer out of the gap. Clarke couldn’t help but wince at the very slight noise it made, and she held her breath until Bellamy held up his left hand and waved his fingers in a ‘follow me’ motion, which meant the coast was clear. On her tiptoes, she lightly danced around the noisy spots of the floorboards in the hall, her head darting left and right on high alert for the intruders as she led Bellamy to her office. Her hand reached the doorknob, ready to turn, when she heard the voices. 

“Nothing in here, Cage.” The one called Dax spoke. Footsteps approached the other side of the door, and Clarke locked eyes with Bellamy in panic. Running all the way back would make too much noise, and if she was a gambler she would put money on them searching the staff room next anyway. As Bellamy grit his teeth and raised his fists, Clarke tugged on his arm urgently and pulled him to the safest place she could think of – the janitor’s closet. She ushered him inside and followed immediately after, closing the door behind her just as she heard her office door open. Relatively hidden as it blended in with the wall, she was confident that two people unfamiliar with the clinic would miss it. Neither Clarke nor Bellamy spoke as they stood in the dark, cramped room; they simply pressed themselves together, and Clarke tried to muffle the sounds of her heavy breathing by burying her face into Bellamy’s sweater. She could feel the panic dissipate with every breath, the calm flooding back into her body as the footsteps and voices got quieter. Her eyes had just about adjusted to the lack of light in the closet, and as she looked up at Bellamy, the worst possible thing happened. Her ringtone sounded loudly from her phone, the noise startling her so much she dropped it. She scrambled for it on the floor, seeing from the screen that Wells was calling, likely worried after her text, and she silenced it quickly. Closing her eyes and clutching the phone tight to her chest as if that would muffle any further sounds, she prayed it went unnoticed. The silence outside the room was deafening. For one fleeting moment, she thought maybe she’d gotten away with it. The moment didn’t last long.

“You hear that?” Dax asked.

“Yeah, I heard it.” Cage replied confidently, louder than necessary. Clarke got the sense it was less of a response to his partner, and more of a threat to whoever made the sound. “Looks like we’re not alone after all.” Footsteps echoed closer, and she heard a door whip open then shut a moment later. “Let’s play a game. I’m going to open all these doors one by one, so I _will_ find you, and if you hide from me, I’m not going to like it. But if you show yourself now…” Another door opened and shut. “I _promise_ I’ll go easy on you.” 

His words hung in the air as he let his offer sink in. She looked at Bellamy. _What do we do?_

A strong look in his eyes responded wordlessly. _Stay here._

About to protest, it died on her lips as he had already opened the door. He closed it behind him quickly, blocking Clarke from view, as he stepped out to greet the men.

“Cage, Dax, I’d say it’s good to see you but I’d be lying.” Bellamy’s voice sounded strong and steady, and Clarke wondered how much of it was bravado.

Cage spoke first. “Bellamy fucking Blake. You’ve got some stones showing your face.”

“What are you doing here?” Dax said. 

“Same as you I assume. Looking for drugs.” Bellamy wasn’t technically lying. 

While they spoke, Clarke hastily typed a message to Wells.

_Clarke: don’t call. send help now._

It was brief but it would have to do. She double checked it was on silent before pocketing it, tuning back into the conversation outside to find it had escalated. 

“I don’t give a shit who was here first, there’s two of us and one of you! Even if we did leave, you know damn well we’re going straight to Pike, he’d be _so_ happy to know where you were.” With the raised voices and overlapping shouts, it was hard to tell who was who, but one thing Clarke was sure of was that it was about to devolve into a fight. Desperate to help Bellamy, she searched the closet for something she could use as a weapon. Mentally eliminating anything too soft to do damage and too heavy for her to lift, she grabbed a wet floor sign and a broom. Pressing her ear to the door, she listened as she heard the first punch land with a thud and a groan, and charged out of the closet. Quickly identifying Bellamy as the man on the ground, she swung the wet floor sign around and whacked one of the men in the face with it as hard as she could, before jabbing the handle of the broom into the other man’s stomach. While they were still stunned by her arrival, she grabbed Bellamy, who had already begun to stand, and together they bolted to her office, locking the door behind her before backing up against the far wall.

 _“Bitch!”_ One man yelled as he slammed his hand against the door. She heard them catching their breath outside, and she checked on Bellamy, who was crouched on the floor next to her.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, though she saw a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth. “They’re low-level, but they answer to the same guy I used to work for back when I… you know…”

Clarke nodded in understanding. “Wells should be sending help now, we’ve just got to hold out until then.” If Bellamy was going to respond, he was cut off by a loud jolt of the door. A few seconds later, the door banged again. Clarke gasped. “They’re trying to break the door down.”

The wood was old, it wouldn’t hold for long, and Clarke was acutely aware of the frosted glass panel in the door that they could break if they were desperate enough. For now, it seemed that the adrenaline was clouding their thoughts, so they hadn’t thought to force through it yet. 

Clarke’s office had even fewer potential weapons than the janitor’s closet – all that was in the room was her desk, with her computer and a few photo frames, a filing cabinet containing patient notes and admin, and a set of shelves filled with medical journals and textbooks. She decided she’d keep a baseball bat in the corner from now on. 

“Clarke I’m so sorry. These people hate me, and I can’t help but think they’re going to take it out on you.” Bellamy’s voice sounded strained, tearing his eyes away from the door to look at her.

“Hey.” She put her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to keep his eyes on her. “This is not your fault. If you weren’t here they would have come anyway, then I’d be here on my own. Instead we’re gonna do this together, okay?”

Dax shouted from behind the door. “Who’s your girlfriend, huh? One of the doctors?”

“Don’t keep her all to yourself, I want to say hello.” Cage taunted.

Clarke’s heartbeat quickened, but Bellamy calmed her down. “Look at me. Clarke, nothing is happening to you. I won’t let it.”

Glass shattered as one of the men threw a rock through the panel in the door, sending shards cascading around the room, some pieces reaching as far as Clarke and Bellamy. It must have been how they got into the clinic in the first place. A hand reached through the now-empty space in the door, fumbling for the handle. A glint of light shining across a stray piece of glass just inches from her hand caught Clarke’s attention, and in a split-second decision, she grabbed it and charged for the door, slashing at the hand on the doorknob. Blood spilled down from Dax’s hand as he cried out in pain, and Clarke cast aside the now bloody shard of glass and raced back to Bellamy. “ _Fuck!_ ” Dax shouted, ripping a bit of fabric from his shirt to wrap his hand.

Cage took his place, reaching his hand through to unlock the door, and Clarke prepared to strike again. She felt Bellamy’s hand on her arm, silently telling her to stay back. No point delaying the inevitable – they were getting in here. Bellamy pushed Clarke behind him and into the corner of the room as Cage smirked, his fingers resting on the lock confidently as he turned it tauntingly slowly. He opened the door as if he had all the time in the world, and stepped in as comfortably as if he owned the place. “Well doc, are you gonna tell me where you keep the drugs or are we gonna have to hurt your boyfriend?”

“He’s no angel, you know,” Dax joined in, just a few paces behind Cage. “We used to work together all the time. He tell you about that?”

Under his breath, Bellamy muttered to Clarke. “I’ll distract them. When you get the chance, run. Don’t wait for me.”

Keeping her eyes on Dax and Cage, she took Bellamy’s hand and squeezed it, hoping it said everything she was feeling. _Okay. I’m getting help, then I’m coming back for you._

“Well, Doctor Griffin?” Cage asked, eyeing the plaque on her desk with her name on it. “Where do you keep your drugs?” He spoke slowly, as if talking to a child, but the words held venom in their delivery.

“Back off, Cage.” Bellamy snarled, sounding all but feral. 

Dax stepped around the other side of the desk, about to box them in. It was now or never. Bellamy charged at Cage, taking him by surprise and knocking him to the ground. Clarke saw her opportunity and leapt over their bodies, rolling around on the floor in a struggle for dominance. Racing for the door, Dax was too fast. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back to the room just before her fingertips could reach the door handle. Her scream drew Bellamy’s attention, and while he was distracted, Cage landed a solid punch to his face before flipping him over, pinning him underneath him. Clarke kicked wildly in an attempt to throw Dax off balance, but his arms stayed tight around her. “You can stop this,” he said into her ear, pointing her towards Cage and Bellamy on the floor. “Just tell us where they are.”

Clarke’s heart broke as Bellamy tried to protect his head from Cage’s fists, growing visibly weaker. Protecting the drugs wasn’t worth this. She choked out a sob, crying out at Cage. “Stop! Please, I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you where they are.”

Cage slowed his barrage of blows, looking at Clarke expectantly. She took a moment to gather her breath, and weakly said, “The cabinet’s in the–”

“Nobody move!” The door burst down as torchlight filled the room, and Clarke made out five armed officers entering her office. Dax released her, and she crumbled to the floor, disobeying their orders and crawling over to Bellamy. 

“You two, against the wall, now! Hands behind your backs!” Another officer directed Cage and Dax, while Clarke checked on Bellamy.

“Are you okay? Where are you hurt? Let me see.” She fussed, and he took her in his arms, breath shaking.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked, but Clarke didn’t have time to answer.

A third officer shined his light on Bellamy. “You, back away from the girl and show me your hands!” 

He did as instructed, and Clarke felt a gloved pair of hands on her shoulders, guiding her away. “Wait, let me talk to him! Bellamy!” The hands stayed on her, leading her out of the room. 

“It’s okay, Clarke!” Bellamy called out after her, as the officer spun him around and cuffed him. She noticed Dax and Cage were cuffed too, sitting on the floor by the officers’ feet.

The office door closed behind her and they were out of sight. She struggled to push past the officers to get back to Bellamy, when she heard a familiar voice.

“Clarke?”

She searched for the source of the voice, and her eyes landed on her friend. “Wells!” Overcome with emotion, she began to well up as she ran to him, gripping him in a tight hug.

He returned her embrace without hesitation. “What happened? Are you hurt? I got your text – we were already on our way, but then I started worrying and got Chief Kane to divert some other units to you.”

“I’m okay, I’m fine, but they arrested Bellamy – I need to find the Chief, I need to explain–”

“Wait, who’s Bellamy?” Wells asked. 

“What have we got?” A booming voice filled the hall and Marcus Kane strode in, his boots landing heavy on the floor with every step, commanding the attention of his officers. 

“Three assailants, all with previous records. Dax Hargrove – theft, murder in the first degree. Cage Wallace – possession with intent to supply, assault, suspected torture. Bellamy Blake – one misdemeanour possession charge.” One of the armed officers reported to Kane.

Clarke released her hold on Wells, and rushed to Kane, who spoke to her first. “Doctor Griffin, I’m a friend of your mother’s. She’ll be relieved to hear you’re safe. There are paramedics standing by outside if you need them, but I–” 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Chief Kane, but I need to speak to you. Your officers have arrested a friend of mine, he was here tonight keeping me company, and he helped me when the others broke in. Bellamy Blake, he needs to be released.” Clarke urged.

The Chief studied her, considering her plea. With a sigh, he nodded to one of the officers, who entered her office to uncuff Bellamy. “That makes sense. I remember him, he’s the only one with minor offences, and he was co-operative in building a case Pike. I’m sure that as a doctor you’ve seen for yourself the devastating effects of drug addiction on our community, and Pike is a major player in the supply to the city.”

That rang a bell in Clarke’s head; something Wells had said his father was working on with the police department. “You’re heading up a task force to find him, aren’t you?”

Kane took a step back in surprise, impressed that she knew. “That’s right, we’re still trying to find officers that fit our criteria. Ideally, we need someone who already has knowledge of how it works – a sort of inside man.” 

Her office door opened again, and Bellamy walked out, rubbing his wrists as he talked to the officers. Keeping her gaze on him, she replied to Kane. “I think I might know the right man for the job.” 

Kane’s eyes sparkled with interest, and Clarke felt the idea forming in her head as she pitched it to him. Her peripheral vision showed Bellamy being led outside, presumably to the paramedics, and they flashed each other reassuring smiles as he passed her. Once she hashed out the details with Kane, she headed outside. The cold air was freeing, and she actually relished the feeling of snow falling on her face as she watched the light flurry cascade down from the heavens, just a trickle now compared to the storm it was less than 12 hours ago. Red and blue lights flashed incandescently against the dark backdrop of the sky, illuminating every flake as it fell. She followed the lights to their source, walking past the cop cars littering her parking lot to find the ambulances. Still focused on finding Bellamy amidst the hustle and bustle of a crime scene, she weaved between cops, and found herself being all but scooped up by a cheerful paramedic who thrust a starchy grey blanket over her shoulders. Politely declining medical attention, she wrapped it tighter around her shoulders, a chill settling in now, as she eyed the other ambulance a few feet away.

She poked her head round the corner, and saw Bellamy wincing as a familiar paramedic cleaned a wound on his face. “Hey, Emori.”

The paramedic whipped around to face her, relief flooding her features as she took Clarke into a deep hug, clapping her arms on her back. “Clarke, thank god you’re okay. When I got the call to come here, I didn’t know what to think.”

Clarke chuckled lightly. “I’m okay, I promise.” She and Emori had met during Clarke’s rotation in the emergency department, where Emori would wheel in patients and hand them over to her. They saw so much of each other that they decided to grab a hot drink together once – coffee for Emori, hot chocolate for Clarke – and the rest was history. She glanced briefly at Bellamy over her shoulder, then pulled apart. “Hey, I’ve got this one. Why don’t you get warmed up and I’ll find you later?” 

With a nod and a squeeze of Clarke’s shoulder, Emori walked away, leaving Clarke and Bellamy alone. “Red’s a good color on you.” Clarke joked wryly, gesturing to the blood still clinging to his skin. Bellamy barked out a dry laugh as she ducked in to the back of the ambulance, sitting next to him and watching the scene unfold in front of them. “Sorry – black humour, it’s how I cope with trauma.”

“You got one of those blankets too?” He asked, motioning to the matching blanket draped over his shoulders.

She nodded. “It’s more for the shock than the cold. Though it is pretty freezing out.”

Without a word, he opened up his blanket and spread it over the two of them, shielding them both from the cold. 

“Thanks.” She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, just letting herself melt into him. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

She felt him kiss the top of her forehead. “I’m really glad you’re okay too.”

Maybe it was just the unique circumstances, but as it turned out, crime scenes weren’t nearly as loud and fast-paced as they were on TV. The scene playing out in front of Clarke and Bellamy mostly consisted of police officers and EMTs milling around the area, getting on with their duties quietly with a low level of chatter, while some less busy officers grabbed coffee for everyone.

The sight of Kane exiting the building to brief his officers reminded Clarke of what she wanted to talk to Bellamy about. “So you said you were studying Criminology, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Bellamy confirmed.

“And working two jobs?” When he nodded, she continued. “Do you like your jobs?”

He snorted. “Fuck no. I have to declare my record on applications. Not a lot of good job prospects for someone like me.” 

Clarke pursed her lips. “I might have an opportunity for you. Comes with a very generous healthcare plan; one that would extend to Octavia. You wouldn’t have to worry about her insulin.” 

Bellamy turned to face her, brows knotted in confusion, but she could tell he was intrigued. “I’m listening.”

“How would you feel about taking down Pike?” Clarke asked with a mischievous grin.

A smile settled into his features. “There’s only one thing I’d like more.”

“And what’s that?”

“Go on a date with me?”

Heat rushed up her cheeks, and she bit her lip, turning back to face the scene in front of them. “What do you have in mind?”

Bellamy thought for a moment, before a playful smile teased on his lips. “Escape room?” 

They both burst out into laughter, as Clarke replied. “Hell no! I think we’ve had enough claustrophobia for a while.” As their giggles died down, she went on. “Come over to mine this Sunday. I cook a pretty mean steak.”

“Sounds good, Princess.” He took her hand, and they rested their heads against each other, watching the last of the snowfall in front of them. Even though the noise around them was dying down as patrol cars headed off, Clarke had a feeling this was only the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! I hope you liked it. A huge thank you is owed especially to eyessharpweaponshot who has been so lovely throughout my writing process and giving me amazing tips and notes (yes I have them all saved and I love them), thank you for keeping me sane! xx


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